


And Since We've No Place to Go

by kirana



Category: Smallville
Genre: Holiday, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirana/pseuds/kirana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the weather outside is frightful, what is Lex doing driving?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Since We've No Place to Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _Not Another Plastic Christmas 2008_ gift exchange on the CLexmas comm on Livejournal for azrielle_jones.

        Lex dropped into a chair with a sigh. "Thank you for digging my car out," he said.  
        "Not a problem," Clark said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. He immediately started stripping off his gloves, boots, and jacket. "Hey, you might want to get out of your coat," he suggested, sounding concerned.  
        Lex lifted a leg and stared at it in distaste at the cuff of his pants. They were already soaked, chilling his skin and not being very comfortable at _all_. His socks were even worse, if that was possible. "How about my pants?" he muttered.  
        "Yeah, I think I have something that'll fit you," Clark replied, obviously catching his little comment. "Gimme a sec and I'll get a change of clothes for you." He looked Lex up and down. "And maybe a towel," he added as he headed for the stairs. "Did you want to take a shower to warm up?'  
        Mmmmm, to be warm again . . . . Lex nodded decisively. "That would be wonderful," he said sincerely.  
        "What were you doing out anyway?" Clark called. "And why weren't you driving something with a bit more clearance?"  
        Lex paused in the act of hanging up his coat. "Oh, I just decided to go for a drive," he decided, forcing cheer into his voice.  
        "Right after a _snowstorm_?" Clark asked, sounding incredulous. "Geez, Lex, the plows are still doing the main streets and Dad's still hooking up the plow."  
        "Yes, well, this is my first Smallville Christmas," Lex said somewhat acidly. "Trust me, this is something that's not likely to happen again."  
        "What happened to that truck you bought?" Lex's ears perked up, but he could detect nothing more than honest curiousity.  
        "Would I have gotten stuck?"  
        "Uhhh . . . maybe?" He could hear Clark's feet pummeling the stairs. "You know, I'm kinda surprised you made it as far as you did."  
        Lex gave a short laugh. "I'm kind of surprised you were able to dig me out," he admitted. "I thought I was well and truly stuck."  
        Clark actually _shuffled his feet_ and looked down. That, naturally, sharpened Lex's interest, as well as proving yet again just how wholesome Clark's upbringing had been. The boy clearly didn't like to tell lies, even when he felt he had to. "I have some clothes here," he said, offering the bundle he was carrying to Lex. "And a towel for that shower. Umm, it's the first door on the right after you get up the stairs."  
        On the other hand, it _was_ nearly Christmas and Clark _had_ just saved him--and his car, his poor, poor car--from a snowy fate. Plus, there was the whole offer of a hot shower, so maybe he'd just let the boy's lie, well, lie. For now. "Thanks," he said gratefully, restraining himself from just grabbing the bundle and running for the shower. "I'll be down again soon."  
        "There's no rush," Clark told him, smiling. "Unless you want hot chocolate; I'll be making some, but I can't guarantee there'll be any left if you don't hurry."  
        "I'll make a point of being fast," Lex said over his shoulder, already halfway up the stairs. He paused. "And, really, Clark--thanks."  
        Predictably, Clark waved it off. "What are friends for?"  
        Lex shook his head and finished the climb.

* * *

  


 

        The hot shower had done wonders for him and the clothes Clark had lent him-although a bit looser than he liked--were comfortably worn and held an almost indefinably comforting scent. After some thought, he had realised the clothes smelled like Clark usually did, a realisation that had set his blood thrilling even as he reminded himself the boy was just that--a _boy_.  
        And now, sipping hot chocolate with his friend, his self-control proved to be worth it. Any non-platonic gesture he made in Clark's direction was sure to just push the boy away and, truly, Lex was tired of being alone. He wasn't going to ruin the best--first--real friendship of his life by making his friend uncomfortable.  
        "Whatcha thinking about?" Clark asked, bumping his shoulder. They were sitting at the table in the kitchen, both with a mug of hot chocolate to hand.  
        Lex shrugged. "How much I appreciate your friendship," he said honestly.  
        Clark sniggered gleefully. "Yeah, how else would you and your precious car have gotten out of the snow?"  
        Lex laughed with him. "Chalk it up to being a city boy," he said. "I guess I never realised just how _much_ it could snow."  
        "Well . . . . To be fair, our road wasn't plowed the _last_ time it snowed," Clark admitted. "That's what's taking Mom and Dad so long with the plow--something's not hooking up right and it needs to be fixed so we _can_ do some plowing."  
        Lex started to stand. "Do they need help?" he asked, although he wasn't quite sure how he could help fix a plow. Maybe he'd be able to hand over the screwdrivers and hammers as they were called for?  
        Clark grabbed his shoulder and tugged him down again. "Nah, they're fine," he said with a chuckle. "And don't feel guilty about monopolising me." Not that Lex _had_ been; now, of course, he was. "The deal is, I get the driveway clear and the rest of the day is mine."  
        "_You_ cleared the driveway?" Lex asked, impressed. "God, they must grow farmboys _strong_ out here." To his surprised, instead just laughing with him, Clark did that weird embarrased-guilt-lie thing again.  
        "I've just got a good work ethic, that's all," Clark insisted.  
        "If I had half your work ethic, I'd have my own company," Lex said. "Seriously!" when the boy frowned skeptically at him.  
        "Right." Yeah, Clark didn't sound convinced at all. "Anyway, come up with me and I'll make sure the guest room's made up proper."  
        "Guest--Clark, no, I'm going to be heading home," lex said, half-alarmed. After all, he, of all pwople knew his self-control wasn't _that_ good.  
        Clark turned a frown on him. "No, you're not," he said firmly. "The snow's still falling out there and the radio says we're still in for another five to ten inches. There's no doubt that we're going to be beating our old snowfall record and there's no way I'm going to let you go and drive in it, not after you got stuck once already." He stood up and headed for the stairs. "Come on," he said. "I promise I'll keep you safe from the evil comforter."  
        Lex closed his mouth with a snap and followed Clark up the stairs and down the hall. He peered through the door as Clark rummaged in the room's closet. "It's very homey," he tried.  
        Clark laughed at him as he brought out an armful of blankets. "It's actually pretty prim and proper," he confided. "Mom has this thing about wanting to impress the guests. Here, I'll put these here for you in case you need them. And you might want to sleep with the door open or the room'll cool off pretty quickly."  
        Lex looked at the bed, then at Clark, and back at the bed. "Now?" he asked faintly.  
        Clark burst out laughing. "Of course not!" he said. "I mean, sure, we seem to go to be earlier than my other friends do, but not _this_ early!"  
        "Okay . . . ," Lex said slowly. "So what _do_ farmboys do while waiting for bedtime to roll around?"  
        Clark's eyes narrowed. "You know, just for that crack, you're going to help me make supper," he said firmly.  
        Lex gaped at him. "Me?!" Then he cleared his throat and said, with_out_ squeaking, "Me? Clark, you don't mean that, do you?" He trailed after Clark as the boy went down the stairs. "Clark? You're joking, right? Clark?"  
        "Nope," Clark said cheerfully. He handed Lex a pot. "Here, fill this about half full with water." He turned Lex to face the sink. "Then put it on the back, right burner on high, okay?"  
        "If the food turns out inedible, I'm not taking the blame," Lex told him as he followed his instructions.  
        "It won;t be inedible," Clark said. "Okay, now get the plates out of the cupboard--that one right there--and start setting the table."  
        "I can't set the table," Lex complained even as he pulled down four plates. "What makes you think I can set a table?"  
        "Nothing," Clark said, an impish gleam in his eyes. "But now's as good a time as any to learn. Now the glasses."  
        "You're heartless," Lex accused. "I can't believe you're putting your rescuee to work."  
        "Better believe it," Clark said implacably. "Okay, the cutlery is in this drawer. Four knives, four forks."  
        Lex glared at him. "For your information, not _every_ meal I eat has four courses."  
        "Suuuuure, whatever you say, Lex," Clark said soothingly. "Right. Salt and pepper on the table and then you can escape to the living room if you want. You can check out the weather report if you don't believe me."  
        Lex sighed. It wasn't that he didn't believe Clark, it was more that he didn't _want_ to. Stuck in the same house as Clark Kent. Worse, stuck in the same house as Clark Kent and _his parents_. And sleeping with his door open. Truly, his self-control was going to be well and truly tried.

* * *

  


 

        "Lex, wake up."  
        The whisper tried to pull him out of sleep, but Lex wasn't having any of that. He frowned and shifted away from the annoying thing.  
        "Lee-ee-eex . . . . Rise and shine, sleeping beauty . . . ."  
        He batted his hand in the direction of the voice. Something warm and strong caught hold of it and wouldn't let it go. He would gladly give it his hand as long as it _stopped talking_.  
        "Lex, c'mon, wake up! Don't you want some of the supper you helped make?"  
        "No," he said grumpily, trying to tug his hand back. The deal was off.  
        "C'mon, Lex, I don't want to eat alone! Mom and Dad are out doing some plowing now and I'm lonely." The unmistakable pout pulled Lex further out of sleep.  
        "Fine, fine," he said, sighing. He rolled his head towards Clark and opened his eyes a little. "What time is it, anyway?"  
        "Just after seven. My parents got the plow fixed about an hour ago."  
        Meal to plow . . . interesting segue. Lex made an effort and heaved himself into a more upright position. "So, what's for supper, anyway?" he asked.  
        "Spaghetti," Clark replied, standing up and offering Lex a hand.  
        Lex looked at his friend suspiciously. "Clark, it doesn't take an hour and a half to cook noodles," he said, accepting the hand up. "Even _I_ know that."  
        Clark grinned. "I know, but you looked like you need the rest, so I let you nap."  
        "Napping," Lex groused as he followed Clark into the kitchen. "I haven't had a nap since, since . . . I can't remember the last time I had a nap, that's how long it's been!"  
        "Well, you did a lot of hard work today," Clark said, portioning out some noodles. he handed the plate to Lex and pointed out the pot still on the stove. "The sauce's in there. There should be a ladle somewhere . . . . Ah-ha! But, yeah, Lex, shovelling snow is hard work. It's like a really, really intense workout."  
        "I work out!" Lex protested, spooning out some of the sauce.  
        "Yeah, but I doubt you're lifting shovels' full of snow," Clark said dryly. "You can have a heart attack from shovelling too much, too fast; you know that, right?"  
        Lex grumbled and refused to answer.

* * *

  


 

        "So, now what?" Lex asked, neatly setting his fork to the side of his empty plate.  
        Clark cast him a disbelieving look. "Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"  
        Lex sniffed. "Of course I do," he said. "But you've already pressed me into duty once."  
        Clark snorted. "Yeah, setting the table is really hard work. No, Lex, all we have to do is put the leftovers away and stick everything in the dishwasher."  
        "Everything?" Lax asked doubtfully. "Even the pots?"  
        "Yes, Lex, even the pots. See? That's why there's a Pots and Pans cycle."  
        "Hey, the Way of the Dishwasher is a closed book to me," Lex said, holding up his hands.  
        "Ha, ha, Clark said. "You know what, why don't you go to my room and bring down my coat, instead. I'll take care of cleaning up."  
        "Where will you be going?" Lex asked curiously. "Are you going to leave me here to entertain myself?"  
        "It would serve you right if I did," Clark said. he snapped a dishtowel at Lex. "Go get my coat and I'll tell you!"  
        Lex yelped and skipped out of the way of further attacks. "Do you do this to all your guests?" he said as he headed for the stairs.  
        "Only the ones I like!" Clark replied.  
        Lex smiled and shook his head. Hmm, Clark's room . . . . He tried one door, but, no, that was the bathroom again. Another try netted him the master bedroom. The third try showed him a teenager's typical room. A bit tidier than he would have expected, but it was still easy enough to find the coat Clark had asked for.  
        "Are you done, yet?' Clark's voice, coming from right behind him, made him jump.  
        "Clark!" he said, clutching the coat to himself for a short moment before consciously loosening his grip. "I didn't think you'd be done this fast."  
        Clark shurgged. "Well, there wasn't a lot of work to do," he said. "Okay, now put the coat on and come with me."  
        Lex looked at the coat, then back at Clark. "I thought I was getting it for you," he protested.  
        "For _me_?" Clark echoed. "Nah, I won't need it to get to the loft. You, on the other hand, with your city-boy flesh . . . ."  
        Lex scowled at him. "You're never going to let me forget that, will you?" he complained even as he shrugged his arms into the coat.  
        "Nope," Clark said, preceding him out the door. "Boots, I think."  
        "Boots?"  
        "Yeah, you'll need a pair of boots," Clark said. He cocked his eyebrow at Lex. "Unless you want snow in your socks again."  
        "Pass."  
        "Thought so. Here, I just got new ones, but my old pair should work. Also, hat and gloves."  
        "Yes, Mother," Lex muttered. He wrestled with the boots for a moment before Clark knelt down and did . . . something to them. "Gloves, hat, scarf . . . . Do we need a scarf?"  
        Clark considered the question. "You might," he said at last, reaching into the closet and pulling out a hideous yellow and green one. "I'll be fine."  
        "You know, if you keep one adding layers, you're going to have to carry me," Lex said, allowing Clark to arrange the scarf over and around his head.  
        "Hardy-har-har. No, we're ready now." Clark led the way into the dark.  
        "Where's the lights?" Lex asked. "Somehow, I pictured light as being part of this adventure of ours."  
        "How can it be an adventure if both of us can see where we're going?" Clark asked cheekily.  
        Lex made a wild grab and latched onto Clark's arm. "So help me, Clark, if you get us lost in the howling wilderness, I will _get_ you," he threatened.  
        Clark made a choking sound. "The howling _wilderness_? Lex, there's no howling and hardly any _wilderness_ this close to the house!"  
        "That's what you think," Lex grumbled. He shook the arm he was holding. "Well? Let's move before I lose feeling in my toes."  
        "It's not _that_ cold, Lex," Clark said, starting up again. "And look, we're even here!" There was a hollow banging sound; presumably, Clark was hitting the barn door. "And did you really need to grab onto me like some sort of damsel in distress?"  
        "Absolutely," was Lex's reply. "Who knows where you could have been leading me? I just wanted to make sure you and I weren't separated."  
        "Uh-huh, sure," Clark said, clearly skeptical. "Here, get inside." Only too glad to complain, Lex squeezed past his friend and into the barn. "I'll be right up," Clark said, sounding a little distracted. "I can want to make sure the door will still close with all this snow."  
        That worked for Lex, so he made his way up the stairs to Clark's Fortress of Solitude. It was an okay name for a teenage boy's hangout, although Lex would have chosen something different, if ever he'd had a place to hang out like this. He wandered over to the telescope standing where the hay-door-thing was; it was, of course, closed in the face of the unceasing snow. "So, what are we doing up here?" he called to Clark.  
        "What? Just gimme a mo', okay? I'll be right up!"  
        Lex shrugged helplessly and moved towards the desk. Functional, well-used. Tidier than Clark's bedroom. Clark had been working on a term paper, apparently. Some teachers had no respect for the holidays. Pictures on the wall of Clark and his friends--there was even one of Lex. He remembered that picture. Clark had made Chloe take it for him. He'd been holding two fingers up behind Lex's head, giving him bunny ears. But that was okay, because Lex had been doing the same to him.  
        And that pretty much exhausted the entertainment potential of the desk. He gravitated towards the couch.  
        "Uh. Hi."  
        Lex turned, amused a the awkward greeting. "The door's okay?" he asked.  
        Clark looked confused for an instant. "Huh? Oh. Oh! The door! Um, yes, it's fine."  
        "Are you okay, Clark?" Lex asked concerned. He went ovr to him and placed his hand on Clark's shoulder.  
        "Um, yeah, I am, I just . . . I wanted to--" Then Clark seem to steel himself for something.  
        Lex got the surprise of his life when that 'something' turned out to be grabbing his--Lex's--shoulders and pulling him into a kiss. It was by no means an expert kiss, but the source of it and the sheer unexpectedness of it held Lex motionless.  
        "Clark?" he managed when Clark broke the kiss. He cleared his throat. "Not that I'm complaining, but . . . why?"  
        _Now_ Clark was blushing and shuffling his feet. He would have even put his hands behind his back if Lex hadn't thought quickly and grabbed on. "Uh, um . . . I like you?"  
        "Clark--you . . . like--?" Lex shook his head. "No, wait, this is not a good idea."  
        "Why not?" Clark demanded, his voice quavering just the slightest bit.  
        "Clark, you're--young," Lex tried. "And . . . you probably haven't thought this through."  
        "_Young_?" Clark sounded outraged. "How old would I have to be, Lex?"  
        "At least eighteen," Lex snapped. "I'd rather not go to jail for molesting a minor, okay?"  
        And Clark . . . powered down. "That's . . . it?" he asked, sounding bemused. "You're okay with it otherwise?"  
        Lex sighed. "I'd feel happier if I knew you's given it real thought," he said, "but, yes, Clark, otherwise I am damn well _happy_ to kiss you."  
        Clark brightened. "Really?" And then he tried to move in.  
        Lex held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa! Eighteen, Clark, remember?"  
        Clark's face fell. Then, hopefully, "For Christmas? And then I'll be good, promise."  
        Lex hesitated, warring with himself. On the one side, common sense told him he'd be just as in jail for a Christmas make-out session as he would for whatever else they might call it. On the other side, it was _Clark_. And Clark wanted to kiss _him_. There was only so much common sense to go around. On the other, _other_ hand, he wasn't sure how much stock he would put into Clark's promises. Not because of the lies Lex had caught him in, but because he was a teenager with teenage hormones. Lex wasn't so far out of adolescence that he'd forgotten how it had felt.  
        On the other, other, _other_ hand, it was Clark. Wanting to kiss him. And, really, in the face of that, how could he refuse?  
        _Merry Christmas to me_, he thought as he leaned up to give Clark his Christmas gift.


End file.
